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“After we . . .” I don’t finish the sentence. He knows what I mean. I go for the ‘after’ instead. “I was devastated, shattered. College was hard for me, Bruce. I was nervous, but I don’t think I ever considered it would be what it was. I pictured going to class, studying in the quad under a tree like some stupid pamphlet picture. I thought my roommate and me would be best friends and it would all be so easy. It wasn’t, not by a long shot.”
He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his support, his strength. He’s letting me do this at my own pace.
“My roommate hated me on sight, called me a Barbie Bitch just because I was a blonde cheerleader. She made my dorm life hell, turned a lot of the girls against me from the get-go. But I made a few friends in my pre-law classes. We were all so busy, though, and the competition is fierce, so even the people I called friends would bail when I did better on a test than they did. It was lonely, and I lived for those Friday phone calls.”
“I’m sorry, Al.” He sounds truly remorseful, but it’s not on him. We both made mistakes and should’ve just talked to one another.
I duck down deeper into his side, my cheek against his chest as I confess. “After, I was vulnerable. I didn’t realize it at the time, but Jeremy took advantage of that.” He goes tense, and I can feel a slight vibration in his chest. He’s growling at my statement. “No, no . . . not like that.”
“He just . . .” I search for the words. “He liked me weak. It gave him a chance to save me, to be the hero.” Such a simple statement, but it took me a long time to recognize that truth. “We were happy for a while. He did help me get over you, in a way. But it was because he seemed safe.”
I laugh ironically at how not-safe Jeremy really was, but I’m not digging out that particular box, not tonight and maybe not ever.
“Safe?” Bruce asks. “Did you feel unsafe with me?” I know he’s talking about his size, about the nickname he earned on the field, about how people expected him to be this monster off the field too.
I shake my head, sitting up to look in his eyes. It’s dark, but this close, I can see the reflection of the moon in the blackness. He looks hurt. “No, I always felt safe with you. Jeremy, he was safe emotionally. I liked him, I even loved him for a while, but not like you. I wasn’t in love with him like I was with you, and I think that was one of the things I liked about him. Jeremy and I just got stuck. Because of Cooper.”
I settle back against him, and his hand caresses up and down my arm, soothing me so I can do this. “We got married because I was pregnant, and I changed my major so I could be a paralegal. It was all coming together, not exactly what I’d planned, but I could see that it had the potential to be a good life. Jeremy had very specific ideas about what our life was supposed to look like, though, and we fought about that a lot. It wasn’t pretty, and sometimes, he didn’t treat me well,” I say carefully.
Bruce is a smart man, despite his fears to the contrary, and he’s always been attuned to my every thought and reaction, so I need to walk this fine line carefully or I’m going to end up pulling out every demon-stuffed box and letting him peruse through my damage.
His voice is tight. “What do you mean, he ‘didn’t treat you well’?”
I have no doubt that Bruce would beat the ever-loving fuck out of Jeremy at my slightest word, and I don’t want that. I’ve moved on, or at least I am moving on, day by day, minute by minute, consciously challenging the now-rare occasion when I hear Jeremy’s voice in my mind spouting ugliness.
I shake my head, not wanting to get into that. “I’m good now, and that’s all that matters. He’s out of my life, out of Cooper’s life. We got divorced when Cooper was two and half, so he barely remembers Jeremy. The papers are sealed and he gave up parental rights. He’s gone, which is exactly what I want. I wouldn’t change any of it, not even what happened between you and me, because whatever twisted path I went on, it got me that little boy, and he’s my everything. We’re happy, just the two of us.”
But could there be more? a new voice whispers.
No, not a new voice. An old one . . . my own. I am happy with our little family of two, but maybe Bruce and Michelle and even my own quiet hopes are right and I could have more. I could have Bruce.
